It was the week before Twilight Sparkle’s second birthday, and her heart swelled with pride as she added the finishing touches to her latest drawing. She simply couldn’t wait to show her parents.

Dad was cleaning some dishes in the sink when Twilight poked him with her snout. “Twilie!” he said, startled. “What’ve you got for me, dear?”

The little unicorn beamed as she held up the picture in her mouth and waited for his praise to wash over her. Wonderful, brilliant, marvellous! There were so many words he could choose from; which would he pick?

The one reaction she hadn’t been expecting was for him to grimace. “Well. It’s um... it’s certainly different...”

“Do you like it?”

The expectant foal watched as her father bit his lip and glanced at the picture again; however, quick as a flash, he smiled awkwardly and ruffled her mane. “I love it,” he said, his tone a little too enthusiastic. “But why in Equestria have you given yourself wings?”

“I wanna fly. I’m gonna fly all over Cantertrot!”

His smile grew, and young though she was, Twilight could sense there was something not quite right about it. Her heart began to beat faster. Was he lying to her?

“It’s ‘Canterlot’, dear, and unicorns can’t fly,” he said somewhat bluntly. Twilight huffed. She trotted away to find somepony who would appreciate her masterpiece, but to her disappointment, Mom didn’t like the picture either.

“Twilight, your horn,” the mare said slowly. “Where’s it gone?”

“I’m a pegasus! We don’t have horns.”

Mom sighed and folded her forelegs; her daughter had spent all last evening leaping from chair to chair trying to fly, and now this? Could there be something wrong with her? “All unicorns have horns, pumpkin, and you’re no exception. Oh dear, just what are we going to do with you, hmm?”

Two days later, Twilight—after many failed attempts by her mother to find a suitable foalsitter—found herself in a small, cluttered office in the heart of Canterlot Hospital. She sat at a small table in the corner, drawing on scrap paper as her mom chatted quietly with a psychiatrist, a brown unicorn stallion with a strange cutie mark resembling a stubby trident.

“I have to admit,” the psychiatrist whispered to Twilight’s mother as he studied the picture of her daughter as a pegasus. “I don’t fully understand what the problem is here.”

Twilight’s mother raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I think what’s obvious," he said, "is that you have a remarkably gifted daughter and you have every right to be proud of her. You want my advice? Stick this picture on the fridge and start saving up for college.”

Twilight’s mom wasn’t impressed. “Doctor, her horn is missing, she’s given herself wings. That...” She lowered her voice even more, casting a glance at her daughter to make sure she wasn’t looking. “That can’t be normal behaviour for a unicorn. What if she’s unhappy? I don’t want my daughter going through life thinking she should’ve been a pegasus, that’d be awful for her. Her brother never drew pictures like these.”

“If that’s true Ms Sparkle, then frankly, that’s more unusual than this.”

“But—”

“Foals get curious about other races, that’s all there is to it.” He smiled reassuringly. “I appreciate you want your daughter to be happy, but this is just a phase. Trust me. I see somepony worrying about this problem at least twice a month.”

Though her expression had softened, Twilight’s mother wasn’t fully convinced. “What if she’s still drawing these pictures a month from now? What if she doesn’t grow out of this?”

“Then I’d suggest arranging a visit to see a Wonderbolts show, or maybe even a trip to the airship yard. You don’t have to be a pegasus to be interested in flight. My own sister is a balloon pilot, and she’s an earth pony!”

There was a pause, during which the only sounds were the tick-tock, tick-tock of the clock on the wall and the dull rubbing of crayons on scrap paper. The sound filled the office, drawing both adults’ attention to Twilight still scribbling in the corner; the doctor rose from his chair and knelt down beside her.

“What are you drawing there, Twilight Sparkle?” he asked, his voice soft. Twilight didn’t peer up from the picture.

“Me and Shiny.”

“And what are you and Shiny doing exactly?”

The excitement in the filly’s voice was palpable. “We’re flying!”

With that, Twilight placed down her crayon and held up the picture proudly. It was of two pegasus ponies. One had a shield for a cutie mark. The other was purple and had a blank flank. Most importantly—or at least as far as her mother was concerned—she hadn’t forgotten to give herself a horn this time; a purple horn like a unicorn was supposed to have...

The doctor looked at Twilight’s mother. Behind her eyes was a glimmer of what could have been worry; nonetheless, a weak smile spread across her face, her first since entering the office.

“Twilight,” she said, gulping. Whatever she was about to say was obviously difficult for her. “How... how would you like to go and see a Wonderbolts show?”

Twilight’s ears perked up. “What’s a Wonderbolt?” she asked eagerly, her face filling with curiosity at the strange new word.

Her mother’s smile grew. “You wait and see,” she said. “You’re in for a treat, my little unicorn. You're in for a real treat!”

Acting on the advice of the psychiatrist, Twilight’s mother stuck the picture on the fridge, and for days afterwards the filly would start off her morning eating toast whilst staring at the drawing, all her mind focused on flying; she was going to soar all over Canterlot, and nothing would stand in her way, nothing at all!

... Aside from time, that is. A few weeks passed. More and more often, Twilight would forget about her dream of flying, her mind instead turning to thoughts about her unicorn horn. Mom could do magic. Dad could do magic. Even her brother Shining Armor knew a couple of spells. Why couldn’t she do it too?

Weeks turned into months and months into years, and the drawing started to fade, the paper began to yellow. And when she was five the picture was all but forgotten, for that was the year her mom had taken her to the Summer Sun Celebration to see Princess Celestia bring in the morning—the power, the majesty! Twilight’s life had changed that day. Now it was lived in books, and her One True Dream was to learn as much magic as was possible to do so.

Slowly but surely the picture was covered in tests from school: A, A-, A+. Shortly after turning seven, and despite the fact they came from the poor part of Canterlot, her parents enrolled her in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, the most prestigious centre of learning for young unicorns this side of Trottingham Collage.

“But you can’t afford it,” Twilight had said, dumbstruck. She had had to bite her foreleg to make sure it wasn’t a dream. “You really think I’m good enough?”

“We know you’re good enough,” her mother had said proudly. “You can do anything, pumpkin.”

This turned out to be not so far from the truth. When the entrance exam came she had absolutely excelled, so much so that not only had she received her cutie mark, but Princess Celestia decided on the spot to make the filly her own personal protégée; if before Twilight had thought she had been dreaming, then now she was half convinced that she had died and had gone to pony heaven!

The very next day, Twilight’s mother stuck the acceptance letter on the fridge and the picture was finally completely covered up. The sun no longer shined on it.

The dream was over.

Twilight's eighth birthday came and went, and when she started in the new school, for the first time in her life she wouldn’t be sleeping in the bottom bunk in an old, shabby bedroom shared with her brother. It was a boarding school, which meant she’d be living in a fancy room all by herself—nothing but the best for the Princess’ special pupil.

As summer slipped away, excitement and nerves fought in her stomach, making her both sick and elated; it was such a baffling, intense mix of feelings that only when she was alone could she get them under control. Even then, it required hours of reading. In particular, she adored the Daring Do novels with their wonderful winged protagonist, and there was nothing which delighted Twilight more than reading about the brave pegasus soaring through the air in search of adventure. There was just something calming about the thought of flying, as though she was remembering a long lost friend...

When September the first finally arrived, nerves won the battle. Twilight didn’t touch her breakfast. She was scarcely aware of hugging her brother goodbye.

“Twilie,” said her brother. “You’re shaking.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

He leant down to whisper in her ear. “This isn’t a goodbye, we’re still gonna see each other. You’re going to have the time of your life and you’re going to do brilliantly. I know you will. If you put your mind to it, you can do anything.”

With that, he drew her into another embrace, one which she never wanted to end; then a pony-drawn carriage arrived to whisk her away to her new life. Twilight clambered onto her seat—a bit clumsily on account of her nerves—and once her mom was sat beside her, she stuck her head out of the window to wave her father and her brother goodbye. The carriage started to move. The colt and the stallion were getting smaller and smaller...

The carriage turned a corner and they were gone, and she wouldn’t see them again for twelve whole weeks. The thought made Twilight’s stomach churn unpleasantly. Her mind was so aflutter that she hardly even noticed as they wove through the streets of Canterlot, the houses growing progressively nicer until half an hour later she and her mom rode through the school gates. She shut her eyes and thought of her brother. She thought of the advice he had given her.

... What had it been?

With a jolt, Twilight realised that she couldn’t remember Shining Armor's parting words! Screwing up her eyes even tighter, she thought desperately; she could remember hugging him, remember the feel of his coat against hers... but that was it. No words. No voice.

The realisation made her sick. Eyes still shut, she breathed deeply. You’ve been looking forward to this forever, she reminded herself. You even got your cutie mark in the exam. It’s fine. It’ll all be fine. You’re Celestia’s personal protégée, her first in a hundred years, so that means you’re meant to be here and that’s that.

The carriage halted. For a moment, Twilight kept her eyes closed in an effort to calm herself down, remind herself this wasn’t a dream, that she was here, she was actually here and this was really happening.

“Here we go,” she said under her breath.

She opened her eyes and gasped: Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns rose above her, a jumble of majestic towers and huge, fabulous buildings. Stepping out of the carriage onto the gravel driveway, she almost tripped, for she found it impossible to drag her eyes away from the astounding structures in front of her, the grandeur, the sheer, overwhelming size of them.

"Wow," she said, feeling smaller than she'd ever felt in her life. Maybe it was the nerves, but this place seemed a lot, lot bigger than she'd remembered.

The two unicorns trotted through a set of golden doors, then there was a register to be signed, and then a finely dressed earth pony led them down vast corridors with red carpets. Everywhere Twilight looked there was something new to take in, a portrait of a stern looking pony, suits of armour, excited unicorn foals talking with their parents—the filly was certain that some of the clothes these ponies were wearing were worth more than her parents’ entire wardrobe. At one point, she stopped to gape at the view out of a window.

“Keep walking, dear,” said her mother. “There’ll be plenty of time to look at everything later.”

The guide took them deeper into the school, and then at long last, in front of a door at the top of a spiral staircase, he bowed to them. “Your room, Ms. Sparkle,” he said to Twilight before vanishing back down the stairs.

Gulping, Twilight opened the door. “Your own room,” said her mother as she levitated a large suitcase into the bedroom. “I still can’t believe it. It’s so nice!”

‘Nice’ was an understatement. The room occupied the top floor of a tall, circular tower, and a set of French doors led out onto a small balcony; a scarlet rug covered most of the floor, and there was a four poster bed, at the foot of which was a chest with the initials T.S. engraved on the lid. It was as far away from her old room as was possible to be, and only now did it truly begin to sink in that she could never look back.

Twilight stared at the strange new bed. “It’s so...”

“Lovely?” Mom prompted, her voice filled with all the enthusiasm that was absent from Twilight’s. “Exquisite? Beautiful?”

“... Big...”

Twilight didn’t notice her mom frowning at her. All she saw were those plush sheets and that oversized mattress, big enough for two grown ponies. “Would you look at that,” she heard her mother say. “They’ve even given you a little basket for that dragon of yours.”

She blinked. With everything else that had been going on, she had almost forgotten about the dragon...

It had happened during the exam. Twilight, in a surge of powerful magic, had hatched a dragon and then, for a brief moment, had made it grow to gargantuan proportions. And as far as she was concerned, that’s where her involvement should have ended, with the dragon being nothing more than a prop in an exam. She didn’t want it. She didn’t need it. Yet despite this, Princess Celestia was insistent that she look after the beastly little thing because “magic works in mysterious ways.” As much as she looked up to the princess, little Twilight privately thought that this was a perfectly daft excuse. What did it even mean? That the dragon was bonded to her in some way? That it had magic of its own?

“You know I’m not actually keeping him, right?” she said, pushing the basket away from her bed with a hoof. “This looks like it belongs to a dog.”

Mom’s frown deepened. “When I spoke to the princess, she was quite sure that the two of you would prove to be as thick as th—”

Twilight stamped a hoof. “I’m not keeping him. I came here to learn, not to raise a pet.”

“What’s wrong, dear?” Mom asked after a heavy pause, during which the filly stared at the basket as though afraid it might blow up. Her daughter nervously patted the rug, suddenly aware of her cheeks burning.

“I just wish...” she whispered before trailing off.

“Go on,” said Mom gently. Twilight felt her cheeks grow even hotter.

“It’s silly.”

“If it’s important to you then it’s important to me. Say what’s on your mind.”

The filly gulped again, her voice barely audible. “I wish Shining was here. I can’t remember what he said to me this morning.”

A great sob that had been welling up inside of her—like a dam filled to bursting—threatened to emerge. Her eyes watered, but by Celestia, she was determined not to let her dam break, because if it did then she was sure that she would never stop crying! It was just, as much as she’d been looking forward to this, she had been happy at home. She loved being picked up from school by her big brother, had always enjoyed how they’d joke and laugh on the way home; she adored her father reading Daring Do novels out loud, doing the voices, the actions, filling each passage with such life that it was impossible not to be hooked; and she lived for Mom’s cooking, the hay fries, the daffodil sandwiches which in all of Canterlot were unmatched. That life was over. Before today, and even as recently as a few days ago, school had felt vague and distant and far in the future, something that had never seriously felt like it would actually arrive; it wasn’t just the absence of her brother’s top bunk which snapped her out of this way of thinking, but also the fact that bunk had effectively been replaced with a basket for dragon, a baby dragon, a horrible, ghastly, fire-breathing dragon.

Twilight shivered.

What if she didn’t fit in? All the other families had looked so, so rich, and just because she had a cutie mark for magic, and just because Princess Celestia had singled her out, what was to say she would actually do well here? Perhaps the cutie mark was a mistake. Maybe Celestia’s faith in her was misguided. What if she failed everything?!

At this last thought, she winced involuntarily, and her mother placed a hoof on her shoulder. “My darling, is that really what’s been worrying you? Leaving home?”

Unable to get the words out through her sniffling, Twilight nodded, pressing her face against her mother’s soft coat. How she wished that her dream didn’t have to mean moving away! No tears or sadness. No icy sensation in her chest. Just her and her books and her family, and everything would have been perfect.

“I’ve just had a thought,” said her mom. Removing her hoof from her daughter’s back, she walked over to the double doors, and Twilight watched as the mare’s horn glowed with magic; then the doors opened, forcing Twilight to shield her eyes as the room flooded with sunlight. A cool breeze made the curtains dance. Suddenly, the filly was incredibly aware that this was by far and away the tallest building she had ever set hoof in, and she lived on the very top of it...

Cautiously, she followed her mom out onto the balcony. Her eyes widened with sheer wonder.

Canterlot.

From here, she could see the entire city with its glorious towers, the gold plated walls as though the stone had been painted with sunlight, and below them was a labyrinth of thin cobbled streets filled with tiny ponies going about their daily business. Beyond the city lay Equestria like she’d never before imagined it: it was huge, utterly, staggeringly huge, more Equestria than she could ever have dreamed of and then even more besides! The Great River snaked across the landscape, through vast plains and thick, seemingly endless forest; in the crisp September air, the trees were an explosion of reds and oranges and browns and yellows. Far away, it was possible to make out an earth pony town like a little dollhouse collection. Having grown up with nothing more to look at than the bakery across the street, to see this wonderful view from so high a vantage point was, for Twilight, a revelation.

A gust of wind blew her mane into her eyes, so she shut them; the feel of the wind against her coat, as though it was caressing her, was wonderful. She sighed peacefully, mysterious, long dormant feelings stirring in her chest that she could neither explain nor understand: all she knew was that, for the briefest moment, magic was unimportant, all that mattered was the wind in her mane and her tail, as though she was riding on air, the most brilliant sensation.

... It was like she was flying.

“There,” said Mom, finding what she was searching for. “Down there, dearest. Can you see it?”

Poking her nose over the edge of the balcony as far as she dared, Twilight stared at where Mom was pointing her hoof. She squinted her eyes.

“Where am I looking at?”

“Just past the tower with the orange roof, to the left.”

In an instant, everything fell into place: it was their house, their own special house on the very edge of Canterlot. Twilight beamed as she recognized her old window. The way it gleamed in the sunlight, it was almost as though the house was winking at her, looking forward to the day twelve weeks from now when she would go back for the holidays.

Mom whispered in her ear. “When you start your lessons tomorrow, if you feel down then just remember that home’s so close you can see it from your bedroom window.”

This time, Twilight couldn’t help it: her eyes watered, and silent tears trickled down her face. But she smiled, because this was Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns and nothing, nothing was going to bring her down, not her silly fears and worries, nothing at all. She had waited too long for this. As nervous as she felt, deep down she knew that she was going to soar, because surely the only way to go was up.

“Thanks Mom,” said Twilight quietly, hugging her mother. The mare smiled at her.

“... So where are we going to put all those books of yours? Honestly, they go through all the trouble of engraving your initials on everything but only give you a single bookcase?”